


a rose surrounded by thorns

by star_k



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, As in: they're both demons, Bottom Harry, M/M, Rimming, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_k/pseuds/star_k
Summary: There were nine levels of hell in Dante’s vision. Distantly, Louis wondered in which one you’d go for getting off on rimming the demon who ate your soul.





	a rose surrounded by thorns

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to my people whomst I love very murch <3   
> sSs

 

“You know, until you pointed it out, I never really noticed that horn on your head.” Harry spoke slowly, his voice lazily carrying around the bar.

“Ha, ha, Harold. You’re so fucking funny, sometimes I cry myself to sleep thinking about it.” Louis rolled his eyes, chuffed at what his companion thought of a sense of humor. He picked his cup and downed two gulps in a row, thinking the night couldn’t end up fast enough.

“I mean it, when did you get them?” Harry signaled with both hands to his own forehead, trying to not offend Louis but obviously copying the two horns coming out of Louis head. They were the same colour as his hair, curled back towards his own ears. Not as big as older generations’ were, but big enough to be perceptible. “Obviously they’ve been around for a while if they made a guest starring in your last case, but I don’t remember seeing them before.”

“They’ve always been here, Harold. It’s not my fault you’re fucking blind and didn’t see them before.” Louis passed a hand tiredly on his face, wishing it could drag the tiredness of the week away or at least make himself invisible to the tedious chitchat Harry liked to prefer. When neither happened, he gave in, as he was wont to do lately. “These,” he taped the tip of his forefinger to the pointy tip of his horn, “are my faithful companion since my very un-birth.”

Harry snorted.

“What?”

“You may be a demon alright, horny and all,” he chuckled at his own joke, “but sometimes you’re so human I can’t help but cry myself to sleep thinking about it.”

Louis twisted his lip in an ugly snare. “How about you go fuck yourself?”

Harry grinned widely. “Gladly, but how about later?”

Louis didn’t dignify him with an answer, choosing instead to will his cup back to fullness. The bar around them was still full of beings talking loudly, drinking and laughing, much more interesting or inviting than Louis, but still Harry chose to sit beside him and try some polite small talk. It drove him mad.

“Ok, so you were telling me about the case?” He tried again, fingers tapping a mindless rhythm against the wooden counter.

“Yeah, I was.” Louis sighed once more. “But that’s about it, really. Then it was more of a ‘If you’re done fooling around, remove the knife and let’s go’ situation.”

Silence stretched for an eon between them while Harry seemed to think over what Louis told him.

“That makes absolute no sense.”

“I guess you had to be there for it to make sense.” Louis shrugged, annoyed his cup was empty once more. He concentrated, the task a bit harder now the alcohol was boiling in his veins, for it to fill again with pure whiskey.

“I should be there, had I not been summoned to deal with, well, _ deals _ .” He laughed cheerely. Louis would have pinned the mirth to alcohol as well, had Harry been drinking something other than an ale. It sickened him, to see him so well-spirited this late into the friday night of the worst week Louis has had in a while.

Scratch that. The worst month.

“Don’t you ever get tired of playing human? Or playing with them?”

Harry’s curls moved carelessly when he shook his head no so enthusiastically. It turned Louis stomach with revolt.

“They’re an entertaining bunch.”

“They’re the same fucking cycle of dumb mistakes again and again over the centuries and beyond.”

“Aren’t we merry tonight?” Harry entoned funnily, supporting his chin with his fisted hand, elbow too close to Louis’ cup on top of the counter. He pulled it, cautious of spilling any drop of his drink.

“Aren’t we merry every night?” He replied, lips twisted in a curl.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Louis stopped his cup halfway up to his mouth so he could glare at Harry and his idiotic crooked smile. It never managed to intimidate him, and it wasn’t any different then, his unamused expression making his grin widen, if anything. 

“You’re too cute, sometimes I can’t help but wonder how you ended up here.” Harry chuckled, a single finger tapping against his lips. “But then, of course, I remember.”

Louis, on the other hand, wished everyday he could just forget it.

It wasn’t scorn or envy that made him loathe humans and the dumb mistakes they did, but pure, unadulterated knowledge of exactly how those two things worked.

In other words, a millenia later, and it still hurt him to remember every godless day what it was like to be trapped in another dimension from the mistakes he’d done a lifetime before - or just, when he’d been alive.

Sometimes he wondered if Harry’s frequent visits were a part of an unnamed torture. Sure, he did his time in the racks, and sure, he’s now fated for millenia to work in the job he loathed, but the frequent visits of his dealer had to be another form of mental torture or a way to remind him of his own stupidity. Or just to irritate the (dead) living shit out of him because Harry seemed to embody everything he loathed in a being.

Most days he regretted selling his soul for fame, glory and a kingdom. Some days, he regretted he’d sold it to the most annoying demon he’d had the displeasure of being friends with.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“I’m wondering if there wasn’t anyone else who would have answered my offer back then.” 

Harry made an startled face, then a pleased one. He retreated a bit in his seat, obviously entertained by the thought alone of what Louis would say and giving him his full attention. He couldn’t blame him, for once. In all the time they’ve known each other, Louis might’ve brought up himself the topic of his past life twice, if that much.

“And why must that be?”

“Because then I would’ve been stuck with another less annoying dealer, wouldn’t I?”

Harry pouted, his glee obvious despite his attempt to disguise it. “You really think you’re stuck with me, your Highness? Me, who has been nothing but faithful to you? Your obedient servant?”

Louis saw red, his hands trembling in anger. He closed them around his cup to disguise it, hoping, _ praying _ Harry didn’t see them.

No such luck.

He could smell him, always terribly suffocating like rotting roses in an endless garden, before he felt the deep breathy words whispered against his ear. “ _ Nobody can listen to your prayers here, King Louis. _ ”

Louis licked his lips, fury boiling in him so hard it blackened the edges of his vision. He couldn’t see Harry’s smile like this, or his hands gripping the cup so hard it cracked between his fists. Instead, he saw himself from long ago, draped in red and gold and luxury, his family well cared for, his kingdom laid servant at his feet.

All for rotten, forgotten at the first 10 years of torture, regretted for the next 10 centuries serving someone else’s kingdom like the fortress knight he’d dealt out of.

If there was any divine justice he didn’t know, but weren’t the fuckers full of a sense of irony?

“Seems like you can.” Louis whispered back, face still turned away from Harry, staring hard at the wall in front of them.

He didn’t need to see Harry to know exactly how the smile grew against his pink lips, his pale face, or the shadows of an aura that grew around his form. 

“Oh, but I’m different, ain’t I?” He glued his body against the side of Louis’ own, his hands finding solace where Louis least wanted them, against his hands around the broken glass and against his too vulnerable waste. “I know how you taste.” He rested his face against Louis’ head, his curls entangling against Louis’ horn and betraying Harry’s dumb lies of never having seen them. “And I can hear your soul sing inside of me still.”

Louis closed his eyes, suddenly tired and small. So so tired, and so, so small.

They stayed like that, mindless to what happened around them, their bodies unmoving unnaturally, neither needing to breathe or to shiver under the cold around or inside them.

Finally, Louis broke the silence, his lips barely moving to form the words he knew Harry was waiting for.

“Taste me again, then.”

Opening his eyes again, Louis saw the familiar sight of Harry’s bedroom, red velvety drapes all around in perfect mockery of everything Louis had claimed to be once.

He got up from their position, already unfastening his buttons. He didn’t know why he bothered with civilian clothes still, probably under one of those reasons why he was still mocked for his humanity. Somehow, he thought it fitted with his daily routine at the borders, investigating demon on demon violence and settling disputes between their kind. An interesting position, one could say, were it not the very same one he’d sold his soul to get out of, were it not always the taunting of walking on the edge of the prison he was faded to live in, never to walk out of.

Sometimes he envied Harry, whose job was to go up and make as many deals as he could, feasting over the souls of those naïve enough to believe him. Other times, he knew he’d never be able to, his rage against his past mistakes blinding him to the possibility of enjoying the mistakes of others as well.

When he took his coat and shirt off and let them fall to the floor with a dull thud, he felt Harry step behind him, his hand already warming up against his back, his rings scratching his back unkindly.

The kisses soon followed, an irregular path slithering over his shoulder blades and the tendons on his neck. He dropped his head back, enjoying the sensation his cold lips gave him and the smell of roses that surrounded them.

The first time they did this, Louis could barely remember when, he was sure there weren’t any kissing. He was sure it’d been mechanic, it’d been fueled with rage. He didn’t know when it’d changed, or if it had changed at all.

It didn’t take long for Harry to bring his hand up to rest against his neck, his long fingers framing artistically the expansion of it and scratching against his stubble.

“How do you want it?”

“I want to fuck you.” 

Harry only response was a low huff of amused laughter as he walked away from Louis, and when Louis turned around he saw his naked back walking calmly to the bed at the center of the room. Louis stayed where he was, still partially dressed, as Harry gripped the bedpost and kneeled on his bed.

“You sure this is how you want it?”

“Yes.”

He could see Harry grin even with his back turned, his body slowly moving downwards until he presented his arse to Louis. He moved further into the bed on all fours then looked at him over his shoulder. “This how you want me?”

Louis thought for a moment, “no.”

“Aw,” Harry turned slowly, falling with his arse against the mattress, legs displayed almost shyly, closing the view from his cock. He played with the hair on his navel with his left hand, rings always glinting despite the lack of proper light, his other arm holding him upward. “What a pity. What do you want, then, do you want to fuck me in my pussy?” The words had barely left his mouth and he was already partying his legs, showing where there had been his cock before there was a pussy, obviously wet. His grin didn’t falter as he brought his fingers down the hairy path towards his folds, opening himself for Louis to see him play with his clit. Louis didn’t reply, indulging Harry for a moment. He looked up to stare Harry’s eyes, and when he did so Harry slipped his fingers inside himself, fucking his cunt noisily with two fingers.

“No,” Louis answered again. 

Harry stopped the movement at once, taking his fingers out of himself with a disappointed noise and bringing them to his mouth to suck on filthily. He took his time licking and sucking them, as wantonly as he wanted, unabashed by Louis’ silence or stare. When he was satisfied, he took them out and brought them down to play with his cock, back to where it’d been and harder than before. “How do you want me, then?”

Louis didn’t know when the kisses started, or how did their fucking change at all, but somewhere in between then and now, he’d learned to wait until Harry was properly stripped bare - not from his clothes or inhibitions, but from the front he always seemed to put before letting whatever self he still had shine through. It was then that he moved, taking off the rest of his clothes and stepping up to the edge of the bed. All the while Harry watched him, his hand working slowly over his cock, from base to tip with a little twist, and back down again. He bit his lower lip when Louis put his hands on his thighs, forcing Harry to spread them wider. 

He didn’t have to say anything, instead he let body language speak for itself. He lowered down, glad Harry moved back a bit so he could fit himself on the bed, laid down to better access Harry’s arsehole.

There were nine levels of hell in Dante’s vision. Distantly, Louis wondered in which one you’d go for getting off on rimming the demon who ate your soul. Then, he’d remember he’s already been to all of them and more, so he settled for pushing Harry’s legs open wider.

The annoying thing about Harry, besides his very nature, was that the smell of roses drifted of him everywhere; so Louis was drunk now off the tangy taste he tasted off Harry and of his smell. The deeper he drove, his tongue pointed and fucking inside Harry as hard as he could, the more he tasted it, stronger than any whiskey he conjured up at the bar.

Harry must think himself funny, because his arse was wet and loose like his pussy had been. Louis was just glad he didn’t insist with the facade this time.

He licked up to his balls, sucking gently on them while his thumb circled Harry’s entrance. He lifted his head a bit to speak around a smirk, “you don’t want to go rough and unprepared this time?”

“No,” he gasped when Louis finally let his thumb inside him. “We can do it next time, when you’re pissed off from your work and I’m bored and we both need quick, sweet release.”

Louis hummed, looking down at where his finger was inside Harry’s arse.

Next time. He wondered around when they’d become a sure thing as well. Probably earlier than he’d imagined. Maybe even before their first time. Maybe when he’d let Harry rip his soul away from himself.

He dived back in, willing the thoughts away from his mind by opening Harry up for his tongue to get in. It wouldn’t do to be having thoughts like those, not twice on the same night.

Either Louis had been too eager in translate his pent up frustration, or Harry had been too coiled from how long it’d been since their last time, because it didn’t take long for him to start thrashing wantonly against the bed, seeking for Louis’ mouth deeper against his arse and inside it. 

He sucked the puckered skin one last time and got up, staring as Harry moaned beneath him. Despite how he behaved, Harry was far from being a succubus, so it’d better not finish the party before it started.

“Ride me, Harry.”

Harry smiled, mouth half opened. He should be used to it by know, but the lack of panting, or of deep breathing while they had sex still unnerved Louis. Still, he leaned down, locking his lips with Harry on a hungry kiss, sharing the taste of his wet arse with him. It rose a moan from Harry, who clung to Louis with both his arms and legs wrapped around him and bringing him down, closer to his body.

Now, the thing-

-the _ thing _ -

-about having sex with Harry was something that neither knew how to explain. Hell was cold, colder than Louis had ever imagined and it burned cold inside you all day, everyday, every millisecond of your miserable existence no matter how many layers you wore or how much alcohol you drank. It burned you cold from the inside out.

But this, this thing right then? Neither could explain. They didn’t even know where to begin. Because somewhere between their touches, the burning cold started to burn hot, and the skin between them grew warm, warmer than they remembered was possible. Louis didn’t contain himself, overwhelmed by the heat burning between their chest, their lips, he brought his hand down to guide his cock inside Harry, thoughts about positions long gone from his head, instead seeking the instant relief of when he fucked inside.

And it closed the circle, their two points of connection enclosing them into the foreign sensation of warmth and pleasure.

He gripped Harry’s hair with one hand, mouth unmoving against his as he levered himself on the mattress to push inside deeper. It didn’t take long for him to build a rhythm, strong, staccato thrusts paced between them to make the sensation grow longer and stronger.

“How about-”

“I don’t care,” Louis cut him, speaking the truth for once. It didn’t matter how they were doing it, as long as he could feel Harry moaning - his breath warm against his lips-, his hands raising goosebumps as they travelled over Louis’ back, melting the cold away as they did so.

Harry threw his head back, allowing Louis to bite and kiss at his neck as he let himself go to the pleasure, his hair fisted into Louis’ hands, his mouth opened around inconstant moans.

The longer Louis tried to make it, though, the more it became impossible, the unfamiliar heat searing uncomfortable pain pleasure inside and around him, driving him to speed up his thrusts mindlessly, chasing it to completion. 

In fact, if he had a sane mind around then, he would be able to see it never lasted long. The minute he touched Harry, the minute Harry touched him, they were lost to it, to them, to whatever it was. 

He didn’t mind he finished first, coming inside Harry’s arse with a gutted cry against his neck, open mouthed against the warm skin there. Between them, Harry jerked himself off frantically, his fist flying over his own cock until he came as well, back arching against Louis’ body still on top of him.

The room around them smelled deeply of roses, so strongly it conjured images of red ones, so old and mature they turned the colour of blood. So many of them they turned into a tangle of thorns, endless, painted by what seemed then only smell and drops of blood.

Inside this maze, however, Louis knew that his soul was still guarded, alone among the others and among its own memories. Sometimes he wondered if it still existed conscious of itself, alone and incomplete like his body and mind were.

When he laid atop of Harry, haze of his orgasm framing his mind and body, he felt closer to it somehow, like he was a whole self again. But then, the warmth started to fade and the cold crept in.

Never, a more conscious mind would say, believe in a creature of the night.

Never fall for it.

But Louis never listened, did he?

 

__"In my imagination you're waiting lying on your side  
With your hands between your thighs  
  
...and a smile"  
(Arctic Monkeys - 505)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering were the fuck did this come from, I don't know either, mate. Is there a second part? Maybe. Who knows. It's not because I know what happens next that the universe is ready to know it as well though.


End file.
